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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129581">Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain'>TellMeNoAgain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tequila [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - For Sex Purposes, Consensual Non-Consent, Dirty Talk, Fucking, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smut, Songfic, Tequila</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:16:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James finds a darker corner of the elaborate gardens and pulls out his phone, realizing he’s probably had too much to drink and this isn’t the best decision just as he presses the call button.</p><p>Thank God, it goes to videomail.  Not his first drunk dial, to this particular number, and well, the man deserves a few given how many he’s left for James, over the years.</p><p>“Hey, Tone,” he laughs, as the lyrics hit his favorite part- <em>Them pantyhose ain’t gonna last too long/If the DJ puts Bon Jovi on</em>- “you hear that?  Wait, wait, wait, are you ready for it?” he laughs, and then sings along, “She might come home in a tablecloth, yeah tequila makes her clothes fall off!”  He bursts out laughing, and then says, “Hey, miss you though, seriously, when’s your next weekend off? Call me!”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tequila [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedraKitty/gifts">TedraKitty</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to TedraKitty for the prompt and the cheerreading!</p><p>Thanks to Livvibee for checking the smut and making sure all the tabs and slots went in the right places in a HOT manner.</p><p>Thanks to mindwiped and jf4m for once again agreeing to beta for me.  </p><p>DONUTS FOR EVERYONE.</p><p>All remaining errors are mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James loves weddings.  The happy couple finishes their first dance and he claps with the rest of the catcalling crowd, smiling at the proud new father-in-law who is leaning back with the rest of the General Staff, stiff and formal in their dress uniforms.  The man has cried four times today and not, James thinks, because of the budget that’s been blown on his baby girl’s big day.  The groom makes everyone laugh as the opening chords of <em>Little Willy Willy</em> break free from the speakers and he begins to throw himself around the dance floor with his groomsmen, the bride laughing and laughing, clutching her sides at their antics.  Children flood forward, grabbing hands and jumping excitedly, and an older, portly gentleman, pulls his blushing and protesting wife out to do some kind of butt-bumping dance that makes everyone laugh and the groom yelp, “<em>Grandma!” </em>in a shocked tone of voice.</p><p>James really loves weddings.</p><p>“Hey, man,” says Lt. Colonel John “Bridges” Cumberton, James’s counterpart working the desk on the Indonesian Isles section.  “You believe him?  Two years ago, never saw him with the same chick twice.”</p><p>“Love hits like that,” laughs James, shaking his head and eating another shrimp.  Man, he loves weddings.  </p><p>“Sure wish it’d catch me,” sighs Bridges.  James looks over at him and sobers, briefly.  “I thought you and what’s-her-name-” he begins.</p><p>“You see her here tonight?” says Bridges bitterly.  “Nah, she decided she needed someone who wasn’t always leaving her with her heart in her throat.  Didn’t mind me reporting to desk duty, but when things get hairy-”</p><p>“Oh, that,” agrees James.  “Yeah, I hear ya.”  It’s a common problem, and there’s no solution to it.  The uniform looks good, but sometimes partners find the cost is too high to maintain it.</p><p>“Anyway, good riddance, I guess,” says Bridges awkwardly.  “You want to go do shots?”</p><p>James loves weddings. “Fuck, yeah,” he tells the man, standing abruptly.  “And fuck her, yeah, let’s go.”</p><p>A couple of shots in, and he’ll be on the dance floor, he knows it.  Ladies love a man who smiles when he dances, and who knows?  Maybe he arrived alone, but weddings are a great time to celebrate life and fun and happiness, and he usually has pretty good luck not <em>leaving</em> alone.  Convenient that he’s staying right here, tonight, though.  Nice not to have to drive.</p><p>~~~</p><p>He’s lost track of Bridges and is dancing with a very solemn seven year old beauty, who keeps telling him he’s <em>doing it</em> <em>wrong</em>, when the song changes and he thinks, <em>Oh no</em>.</p><p>He smiles at the girl and nods, and then says, “You wore me out! I need a drink! Thanks, come find me again, huh, honey?”</p><p>She turns from him and joins hands with another kid without even a nod to say <em>good work</em>.  Real piece of work, already, just like her aunt, the bride.  High expectations.  Well.  She’ll probably be worth it, someday, just like Sarah, he muses.</p><p>He slides off of the dance floor with smiles for every one of the ladies rushing onto it, their faces bright with delight and shouting along to the lyrics at the chorus.  He smiles at every single one of them- so predictable- and tries not to look, well, flustered.</p><p>He finds a darker corner of the elaborate gardens and pulls out his phone, realizing he’s probably had too much to drink and this isn’t the best decision just as he presses the call button.</p><p>Thank God, it goes to videomail.  Not his first drunk dial, to this particular number, and well, the man deserves a few given how many he’s left for <em>James</em>, over the years.</p><p>“Hey, Tone,” he laughs, as the lyrics hit his favorite part- <em>Them pantyhose ain’t gonna last too long/If the DJ puts Bon Jovi on</em>- “you hear that?  Wait, wait, wait, are you ready for it?” he laughs, and then sings along, “She might come home in a <em>tablecloth, </em>yeah tequila makes her clothes fall off!”  He bursts out laughing, and then says, “Hey, miss you though, seriously, when’s your next weekend off? Call me!”</p><p>He hangs up with another grin at the phone screen because he’s handsome as fuck and he knows it, and goes back out to the dance floor.  None of the women are wearing shoes and there are now trays of shot glasses being distributed by waiters and waitresses who have probably had to handle this song- and its completely classless call to the female of the species to go a little wild- at every wedding since 2005.  A woman at the edge of the dance floor bumps into him as she hands her husband her earrings and necklace and he laughs at the man’s put-upon expression, shouting, “Well, at least she’s not handing you her wedding ring for safe keeping, man,” which makes the man chuckle back and look down at his laughing wife with a little less disgruntled ire and a little more affection in his eyes.</p><p>The song ends and someone hands him a shot, and the women all begin to shout, “IT’S MY LIFE,” and the DJ gives in.  Of course the DJ gives in.  Women <em>run </em>these wedding dance scenes- they’re half-rabid with all the sentiment of the day.  No one smart is gonna argue with a pack of them.</p><p>As expected, they go crazy.  It’s practically a mosh pit of chaos and screamed lyrics and women in fancy dresses remembering their rebellious youth.  Kids are running around, husbands are starting to shove their way in to remind their wife that they’re married- it’s all the best parts of a dance club and a family picnic.</p><p>James fucking loves weddings.</p><p>~~~</p><p>In the morning, he wakes up and remembers he’s not twenty-five, abruptly and suddenly and with a crushing sense of doom.</p><p>“Oh, God,” he groans.  “Why- why do I do this?”</p><p>“You love weddings,” says the bed beside him philosophically.</p><p>He yelps and then regrets the volume.</p><p>“Oooh, sugar bear, that looks like a nasty hangover,” murmurs Tony, sitting up to peer at him, thick white blankets sliding down his bare chest.</p><p>James groans.</p><p>“Here, I’ll- water.  You need water,” declares Tony.  “And, uh, vitamins.  Definitely vitamins.  Did you drink champagne?  You know you can’t drink champagne.”</p><p>“No,” says James irritably.  “I am not doing this- I am not- I am hungover, Tone, I cannot with you right now. Go away.”</p><p>“You’ll pull through it.  We have the room for tonight, too.  You’ll be feeling better by then,” Tony informs him.</p><p>“<em>We</em> have the room for tonight?” asks James suspiciously.</p><p>“I mean, no, <em>I</em> am paying for it,” sighs Tony, shaking his head, “but I was trying to help you feel like you were included in the process.  Since you’re all Mr. Independence.”</p><p>“Tony, so help me God, I will-” begins James, sitting up and regretting that choice immediately.  He didn’t have enough, he thinks, to throw up.  It’s just a sour stomach and a headache.  He’s probably mostly dehydrated, actually.  The headache mocks these assertions.</p><p>“Water,” declares Tony, and vaults from the bed, rushing to the low ensuite bar.  He digs around, clattering glasses in a way that makes James grit his teeth and then wince.</p><p>He hands James the drink with all the flourish of a man who never hands people drinks and therefore wants it to be seen as some huge gesture.  James squints up at him and takes the glass with a grunt.  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks Tony.  “You don’t even <em>know </em>them.  I <em>know</em> that you don’t know them.  You make a point to avoid everyone I’ve ever introduced you to.”</p><p>“Not everyone,” argues Tony, the light of battle flaring briefly in his eyes before his smile broadens and he says, “Oh, oh, you need to watch this.”</p><p>He whips out his phone and hands it to James, and there’s James’s face right there, the music in the background muted and strange and almost unclear until James begins to croon along.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.  </em>
</p><p><em>Oh!</em>  </p><p>He glances up at Tony as the him on the phone babbles cheerfully about open weekends and is relieved when the video cuts off.  Not the worst, then.</p><p>“Well, I was drunk,” he tells Tony honestly.</p><p>“Those contacts were a zillion dollars and I’m still mad that you couldn’t find the second one,” Tony informs him, mockingly serious.</p><p>James winces. The guilt still hurts, just a little, “Yeah, well, in retrospect, the heat signatures thing wasn’t as exciting as you’d made it out to be-”</p><p>“No bitching about my toys or I revoke your toy privileges,” Tony reminds him.  It’s been a pretty constant thread in their relationship.</p><p>“So,” says Tony brightly.  “Let’s get you up to good health so I can completely wreck you tonight doing shots of tequila.  Eggs and hashbrowns for breakfast?”</p><p>James groans, falling back into the pillow.</p><p>~~~</p><p>But the thing is, later in the morning, while the TV plays and James contemplates the first nap that really will help him feel better and Tony’s eyes flutter shut, his cheek pressed to James’s thigh,<em> the thing is</em>- he’s not mad he sent the message.  </p><p>When they’d been young and a whole lot more dumb, sure, James had been the one to stumble into their first apartment in a tablecloth draped over one shoulder like a toga, and Tony had looked up from the project on the kitchen table, jaw dropping, and said, “Rhodey, what the <em>fuck</em>,” before James had slammed the door behind him with a clumsy foot and rushed forward to lick a lewd stripe up Tony’s neck.  He’d whispered, “Came home.  Wanted <em>you</em>,” and then heard the little shocked and almost hurt noise Tony’d let escape, and known he’d just blown past yet another defensive barrier Tony had built years ago.  Well before James, and their fucked up friendship-with-additional-benefits-sometimes.  Usually the benefits hit when tequila got involved, but, well, Tony’s actually pretty much an equal opportunity drunk lover.  And, James concedes, looking down at Tony’s sleep slackening-face in his lap, the tequila has always been more a signal that James’d be open to it, than an actual necessary requirement.</p><p>Whiskey-or-tequila dick is absolutely a thing, they learned that together, but not a- not a bad thing, having sex for hours and hours instead of dancing, instead of doing stupid, dangerous shit in the workshop, instead of fucking someone else who might be disappointed by it.  It wasn’t a bad thing for either one of them while they lived together for the three years Tony worked on his doctorate and James began to work his way through the layers of Air Force administrative career officer bullshit.  Whiskey dick gave them so many long nights of heated memories, fuzzy with too much feeling and not enough sobriety to know when to shut up and stop talking.</p><p>Of course, Tony fucked around with pretty much everyone who looked at him, and James gave him so much shit about it that everyone who knew him in those days in the Air Force knew they weren’t together.  You don’t talk about someone the way James talked about Tony, if you expect them to ever kiss your foul, shit-talking mouth.  </p><p>Well, unless you’re Tony Stark. </p><p>The man has issues, James concedes.</p><p>James had taught the press that if they called him about Tony’s latest flame, they could have a free sound byte of him laughing, “Well, he’s Tony Stark, what do you want?” and nothing else.  That’s all he’s ever given them.  AIDS was real and people were terrified and he bought condoms and left them all over the apartment, and made sober Tony design drunkTony traps for James’s bedroom that were mostly effective.</p><p>And sometimes he put the bottle of Patron on the kitchen table and they did shots before they went out, and when they came home, they fell into Tony’s bed to avoid the traps.</p><p>Or, one memorable night, the bathroom floor. Which is probably the reason Rhodey has a twinge in his left ankle some mornings, he realizes suddenly, as the memory floods back.</p><p>It had been crazy, for both of them, and sometimes they fought, because that’s what roommates do, and Tony got into heavier and heavier drugs and James had to drag him out of it, and Tony said <em>fuck you</em> a lot, and sometimes James shouted, <em>no, fuck you</em>, and those were the worst times.  James visited Tony in rehab, though, the first time, the one that didn’t stick longer than a few months, and they did it on his single bed, frantic and worried that the friendship was dying because everything was changing, so quickly, and it had gotten so bad, so fast.</p><p>The friendship, it turns out, is made of <em>vibranium</em>.  Nothing dents it, nothing mars it, not even the worst explosion at the closest distance.</p><p>Vibranium, and, when the mood hits them, tequila.</p><p>“Mm,” hums Tony, in his lap. “T’k nap, Rh’deybear.”</p><p>“Yeah,” sighs James, sliding down on the bed until Tony’s head is pillowed on his chest and turning off the tv to close his eyes.  Tony’s got gray hairs now, he thinks, a little shocked.  Not everywhere, but he’s not the too-pretty young guy who looked up at James from his knees and whispered, desperately, “Don’t go.  Say yes.”</p><p>James likes this guy better though.  Hands down.  Or hands up.  Hands anywhere, really, is his last muzzy thought, with a smirk.  </p><p>Tony has good hands.</p><p>~~~</p><p>When he wakes up, he feels human again.  It’s late afternoon, by the light coming in the curtains.  </p><p>He leaves Tony in the bed- the guy could probably use a couple more hours, if James had to guess, he’s always short on sleep- to walk to the bathroom, and shower, and shave, and brush his teeth.</p><p>Yep.  Definitely human again.</p><p>When he cracks the door, Tony’s sitting on the bed, still bare-chested, with <em>glasses</em> on, frowning at his phone as his thumbs fly across the screen.</p><p>“Everything okay?” he asks Tony, sounding indifferent as he crosses to the bar.</p><p>Tony makes a noise that means he didn’t hear the question, which means it’s not a problem, it’s some kind of invention that has him trapped.</p><p>Well.  James has one night.  He’s not letting goddamn science fuck it up.  That’s shit they sorted out years ago.</p><p>He lines up four shot glasses and pops the cork from the bottle with a twist of his wrist.  He pours, with a deft hand, and something about the sound of liquid hitting glass makes Tony startle out of his reverie and look over.</p><p>“Oh,” sighs Tony, his face dropping into relief.  “Oh, you <em>are</em> feeling better.  I was- I didn’t-” he slides the glasses off and sets them on the side table.</p><p>“Not as young as we used to be,” agrees James, nodding affably, “But I think we can still shock the hell out of the kids anytime we need to.”</p><p>“I need to,” says Tony, watching raptly as James lifts a shot glass in each hand and walks to the bed.  He passes a glass to Tony and says, “You got the song wrong, though.  Bunch of bullshit, I have spent my whole <em>life </em>cleaning up after you and your messes.”</p><p>“Yeah,” agrees Tony easily, quirking a grin up at him.  “That’s why I like it so much.  There’s only a handful of times I have to clean up after you, keep track of your things, make sure you get home okay.  My song would be… significantly longer.”</p><p>“Those pantyhose happened <em>once</em>, for <em>Halloween</em>,” James informs him sternly.</p><p>“Still counts,” laughs Tony.  </p><p>“And I hate country music,” James reminds him.</p><p>“I know,” chuckles Tony, the little shit.  He holds up his glass and James scowls down at him before lowering his glass to clink it.  They don’t spill a drop.  Of course they don’t.  They’ve had plenty of practice.</p><p>“S’good,” offers Tony.  “What-”</p><p>“Casamigos,” James informs him.</p><p>“Oh, the- George one?  Yeah, he wanted me to, uh, invest,” laughs Tony, his eyes shifting away from James, his cheeks reddening.</p><p>“I know about Clooney,” sighs James.  Tony blows out a breath and says, “Okay, but I did <em>not</em> tequila cheat on you.  You’re still my lime’n’salt squeeze.”</p><p>“And you will always be my Puerto Rican hooker,” James promises him, rolling his eyes.  “But you absolutely tequila cheated on me with that silver fox, you have <em>issues</em>, Tony.”</p><p>“‘Nother shot before you start in on my issues,” declares Tony.  “At least one.  Maybe three.”</p><p>James heads back to the bar and holds the next shot out, to coax Tony from the bed.</p><p>He’s had a lot of experience getting Tony to do what he wants.</p><p>Tony slides out, as naked as James, and as lacking in self-consciousness.  It’s good to see him like that, again, as unconcerned as he’d been when he’d been wild and wet at parties in his rebellious heyday.  The scarring had been a hard hurdle for Tony’s vanity to jump, but Pepper had been good for Tony, that way.  Better than James had been, anyway.  And now he gets to reap the benefits of her hard work.</p><p>James appreciates all the effort she’s put into getting Tony back into the gym and fit, too, his eyes sliding down Tony’s form, pausing at his favorite pieces, and rising up to smirk at Tony in a knowing way.  Tony rolls his eyes and declares, “Nothing’s changed.  You still just want me for my body.”</p><p>“I do,” agrees James, holding out his shot glass for another perfect <em>clink</em>.</p><p>Tony takes the shot and James can see the young man he’d been in the careless way he tips back his head, the way his throat works as he swallows.  James sips his more sedately, more smoothly, eyeing up his possible vectors of approach.  Another shot, maybe. Just one more, to get Tony’s head spinning.  They’ll slow down, after that.</p><p>He reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle, sets his shot glass on the top of the counter.  Tony puts his down, the glass making another little <em>clink</em> as it hits James’s glass.</p><p>“My clothes are already off,” Tony points out, as James pours.</p><p>“Mm,” agrees James, licking his thumb.  “I can see that.”  He flicks his gaze up Tony’s body again, loving the way Tony shifts his weight, the blush that trails up Tony’s neck. </p><p>Tony never blushes for other people, he knows that.  He’s seen it.  Tony can fuck a stadium of people and never once be vulnerable for any one of them.  Never once let them affect him, his emotions.</p><p>Him and Pepper, that’s it, that’s all the people on the list of people that can make Tony Stark blush just by <em>looking</em> at him.</p><p>James likes that, he really does.  “You came by awfully quickly, you miss me, too?” he asks quietly, sliding the shotglass to Tony.</p><p>Tony lifts it and quirks a grin that doesn’t mask the sudden fear and sadness in his eyes.  “Always,” he jokes.  <em>Always</em>, his eyes tell James.</p><p>Well, they weren’t good for each other, not the way Pepper is for Tony, but they weren’t the worst, either, concedes James.  He’s not Bridges, to lose track of something good, to stop working at it, just because it ain’t ever gonna be perfect.  He smiles gently at Tony, smiling at the messed up kid and the fucked up young man, the angry adult and the lost man he’s known and loved the whole time.  “Well, you got my attention now,” he reassures them all.</p><p>They take the shot together, a slow slide of salt and heat across James’s tongue and a fast lift of chin and swallow for Tony.  </p><p>“I can’t believe that’s the song that still gets me play, a decade later,” complains Tony, setting the shot glass on the counter with very noticeably precise fingers.  He’s probably already starting to buzz, thinks James with a smirk.  He lays off the sauce so much with Pepper there to worry about his liver, he probably has zero tolerance any more.  Good.  James can absolutely work with that.  “What about Ebony and Ivory?” asks Tony plaintively.</p><p>“They don’t play that one at weddings,” sighs James, stepping forward and cupping Tony’s cheek.  “You gonna bitch all night or <em>be </em>my bitch all night?”</p><p>“Second one,” breathes Tony, his pupils dilating.  “Second one, I choose door number two.”</p><p>“Good,” says James, pulling Tony to him to crush his lips in a kiss.</p><p>Tony tastes like good tequila and a lifetime of memories, and that’s just right, that’s perfect.  
</p><p>“Rhodey,” he gasps, and that’s good, too.  It’s not a bad nickname, and it’s spread, very few people call James by his name, and that’s fine by him.  That’s Tony’s nickname for him, and Tony’s changed so much about James’s world, it’s fine, he can pretty much rename him.  Being Tony’s <em>Rhodey </em>remade him a lifetime ago, anyway.</p><p>James thrusts his tongue into Tony’s mouth when he knows Tony isn’t expecting it, and thrusts his hips at the same time, which Tony <em>does</em> anticipate, and he loves how Tony moans, the rich sound filling the room and stopping the passage of time.  “Gonna fuck you,” he tells Tony, “for hours, until this dick-” and he wraps his hand around it, possessive, making Tony whine and tremble, “is begging for my hand.”</p><p>“It’s already- already-” gasps Tony, and fuck, James loves it when the smartest man in the world goes a little brainless for him.</p><p>“Yeah, no, it ain’t really begging yet,” laughs James.  “I’ve heard you beg, Tony, you say the filthiest fucking things for me, when you really want it.”  He pushes Tony back toward the bed, because Tony likes a little manhandling and always has, and loves the way Tony immediately sits on the corner edge, legs spread, and looks up at him.  “Ohhh, I have missed you,” he croons, touching the sensitive spots just behind Tony’s ears, tilting Tony’s face up.  “My sweet little cocksucking genius.”</p><p>“Dammit, Rhodey,” mutters Tony, but his cock jumps and so James knows that button still works.  He grins down at Tony and says, “You still think you can figure out how to get me off with that sharp tongue?”</p><p>“Of course I can,” snorts Tony, but his eyes flash up to glare at James with that same mix of arrogance and scorn he’d had, in that first dorm room, before the apartment.  It’s still a mask, James knows, as Tony continues, “I’ve been getting guys off for-”</p><p>“Mm,” interrupts James.  “Less talk, more action.  You got a mouth that likes to <em>talk</em>, Tony, but-” he holds his cock and presses the tip to Tony’s mouth, smirking when Tony drops his jaw and lets James feed it in, inch by inch, “-but that isn’t what it’s here for, right now.  Suck,” he scolds, when Tony just looks up at him, eyes going soft and shocked, like swallowing James is a pleasant surprise.
</p><p>The only time Tony Stark is obedient is in James’s bed, he often thinks fondly, at times like these.  Makes it so <em>fucking</em> frustrating when the man refuses to listen literally <em>anywhere else</em>.</p><p>He does still have a genius for bringing James to the brink, right away, pulling out all of the stops, his lips pulsing and his tongue drawing designs, flicking and sliding and- and- “Fuck,” prays James, pulling back, pressing on Tony’s shoulders when his mouth tries to cling, “-the world lost the best fucking hooker in the world when you decided to work for free, Tone.”</p><p>Tony looks up at him, his lips reddened and his eyes slightly teary.  Well, deep-throating does that to him.  James doesn’t really mind it, either.  It’s a good look.</p><p>“On the bed,” he growls, and Tony falls back, smiling gleefully.  “Oh, Rhodey,” he coos, in a teasing twitter, “you’re so <em>forceful </em>tonight.”</p><p>James chokes back his laugh and offers, “I’ll <em>force </em>you, if you want.”</p><p>Tony considers it, as James climbs over him and then says, “Yeah, you can- I haven’t-”</p><p>James chuckles.  “I know, Tony.  I know.  No one else’ll play those games with you.  Can’t ever imagine Pepper splitting you open and fucking into you like you deserve.”</p><p>Tony doesn’t quite toss his head and whimper, but, well, James can see the restraint he uses to prevent it in the sudden tension in his shoulders and arms.  He smirks.  Tony’s such a predictable slut for being <em>forced</em> to accept a little love.  It used to make James worried, back in the early days, but, well.  It’s just Tony, that’s all.  He doesn’t want it from anyone but James, and James knows how to value that trust.</p><p>He values Tony more than anything else in the world, probably, he thinks, pushing the man over onto his knees and pressing him down to the bed with a strong arm in the center of his back.</p><p>“N-no,” mutters Tony.  </p><p>“No,” mocks James.  “But this dick, right here, says, <em>yes, James, take what you want, I love it</em>.”  He slides a hand under Tony and grips his stiffening dick roughly, pumping it until Tony’s wiggling with the movements.  “Think I’ll have you raw,” he says, like he’s picking out dinner.  </p><p>“N-no,” mutters Tony again, and James smiles, because Tony <em>says</em> no, but he pushes his ass further into the air.  It’s an old game they play, a game Tony likes because he can feel it for days, a game James likes because he can feel it, too.  </p><p>“Everybody says it’s only polite to use lube, you know that, Tony?  Everyone says that, these days.  People start thinking you need it, need lube, need to be stretched,” he tells Tony, and he watches the way Tony squirms under his hand as he talks.  He reaches down and grabs both of Tony’s wrists, crossing them behind Tony’s back and holding them there with one hand while his other hand reaches up and buries itself in Tony’s hair, pulling the man back, back, until his hole is lined up with James’s cock.  He drops the hair to land a mouthful of spit into his hand and rubs it around Tony’s hole, because that’s the only iffy part of this, in all the years he’s done this with Tony.  Tony needs that little bit of <em>gentle slide </em>to relax and take what James gives him.</p><p>“But we know better, don’t we, Tone?  Those of us who’ve been around the block-” he inches in, listening to Tony groan and mutter and <em>press back</em>, feeling the soft <em>pop</em> of skin as he presses past that tight ring of muscle and into the glorious smooth stretch beyond it, “-we know you can take it, can’t you?”</p><p>“N-no,” gasps Tony, but he slides back, just a little, a small hitch of his greedy hips, trying to get James to graze his sweet spot, already.</p><p>“Shit, you don’t even believe that <em>no-o-o</em>, do you, Tone?” mocks James, pressing forward.  It’s not like when Tony’s dripping, dripping and stretched and the motion is smooth and slick and sweet satin, but, well, <em>they’ve done this</em>, and he knows it, it’s still good.  Maybe not satin, but still silk, just as nice, more expensive, and just as nice.  He knows the difference between <em>hurts-so-good</em> moans and panicked <em>oh-fuck-go-slower</em> moans and, yeah, fucking Tony while he’s sloppy is amazing, they’ll do that, too, later, but this?  This is so good, this is the <em>best</em> kind of salt and smoke and heat, and perfect to start off a tequila night they haven’t had in awhile.</p><p>He pulls Tony back, little thrusts of his own hips guiding his dick deep, deep enough to pull back and fuck back in, a little deeper yet, Tony gasping at the sensation.  “Poor little rich boy,” he teases, releasing Tony’s hair to grab Tony’s hips and pull him back roughly, “everyone else always fucks you so sweet, don’t they?  Probably use $3000 worth of lube and stretch you like you’re taffy, trying to make it feel so good for you when they fuck into you.”</p><p>“N-nuh- no-” babbles Tony, his breath shattered into the gasps and moans and almost sobs that James loves savagely and fiercely and possessively.  Those are <em>his </em>sobs. James hitches his hips into another small thrust and Tony keens into the mattress.</p><p>“Yeah, they think they’re doing you a favor, Tony Stark, you know that?” he asks pleasantly, shifting his weight and getting ready.</p><p>Tony’s ragged breathing is the only response.  They both know what comes next.</p><p>“Well, I’m not here to do you any favors,” James tells him bluntly, pulling back and shoving back in, making Tony cry out.  “I’m here to fuck you, because that’s what I want, and I know your ass wants it, too.”  He listens, then, to Tony’s little noises, as they fill the room in rhythm with his thrusts.  They can’t do it long, he knows that, so he makes the most of it while it’s only rough and tight and intense, and not too painful for either of them.  </p><p>“F-fuck you,” mutters Tony, pushing back, and James can guess he thinks he’s struggling, but what it looks like from where James is kneeling, is Tony pressing back, wiggling harder, trying to take more.</p><p>“Yeah, no, fuckin’ <em>you</em> right now,” James tells him bluntly.  “And you’re taking it, ain’tcha?  Like the little low-rent hooker you were born to be, huh, Tones?  Fuck you dry and drop a fifty, that’s who you are, deep inside, ain’t it?”</p><p>“Nn-” begins Tony, and it’s not even a <em>no</em> anymore, chuckles James to himself.  He can feel Tony begin to tense and gives two more hard thrusts, burying himself there, and then lifting Tony up by his hair, releasing his arms to support his stomach, lifting him up and biting at the man’s neck, gnawing on his shoulders, as Tony gasps and throws his arms back, wrapping around Rhodey, holding himself up, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of James’s ass.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re a good fuck,” James says in a voice of deep satisfaction, “I’d even drop you a ten dollar tip.”</p><p>While Tony makes little injured noises, James slides his arm down Tony’s waist to his cock, and begins pumping.  Tony shakes and shudders, twitching and jerking with the movement of the hand and James barks, “No, you stay put, Tony, you know what I want.  Cheap little fuck like you, you’ll give me everything I want for that sixty bucks.  C’mon, you want to earn enough to buy something nice, like the rest of that bottle of tequila over there?  Come while I’m buried in you, fucked up into you tight and hot, bet that hurts, just a little, even a sloppy fuck like you, bet it blazes like anything, c’mon, Tony.”  He lets his mouth keep rhythm and time to his hand, spewing the kind of filth Tony loves best, and almost yelps when Tony’s ass tightens around him as Tony comes on the million-thread-count sheets in front of them, shouting and then gasping, trembling in James’s arms.  </p><p>He has to be careful, oh so careful, pulling out, letting a gasping Tony fall to the mattress and lay there, shocked as shit, always so fucking shocked at what James is willing to give him, has been giving him for decades, now.  He arranges Tony’s legs and smiles down at the wrecked man, who has tears in his eyes and who still hasn’t caught his breath.  He asks brightly, “You done being forced, or-”</p><p>“Done,” gasps Tony.  “That was-”</p><p>“Yeah,” says James agreeably.  “Shoulda done that in July.”</p><p>Wrinkles appear on Tony’s face as it screws up in confusion.  “What- when-?”</p><p>“At the fucking summit,” laughs James, bending over to kiss Tony’s kneecap.  “When you were-”</p><p>“Oh, God,” groans Tony.  “No- that- I can’t mix business with pleasure, fuck, Rhodey-”</p><p>“You were such a <em>shit</em>, Tone,” laughs James again.  “Almost walked over to you and started telling you what Daddy was going to do to your sassy ass if you kept it up.”</p><p>“Well, thank you,” gasps Tony, his eyes wide, “for <em>not</em>, because I would <em>not</em> have handled that well.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” James tells him.  He knew that.  Still.  The image-  “Although-”</p><p>“Lube,” declares Tony.</p><p>“Bad boys don’t get lube,” teases James, touching Tony’s hole with a curious finger, trying to determine how sore the man is so he can make decisions.  Tony shifts, but not much, so he’s probably one hundred percent down to add some lube and let James try to reach nirvana, next.</p><p>“I wasn’t bad,” protests Tony, eyes wounded and innocent as he looks up at James, still a little breathless.</p><p>“You were awful, and you know it,” chuckles James, shaking his head.  He jiggles Tony’s knee and says, “And if you want to hear from Daddy about it, you just do it again sometime.”</p><p>“I kinda want to hear from Daddy right now?” laughs Tony breathlessly, his smile wry as he looks up at James.</p><p>“Been too long,” James tells him, seriously.  “You need to learn how to pick up the phone.”</p><p>Neither one of them mentions why Tony doesn’t shoot back, <em>you could call me, you know?</em></p><p>Their thing hasn’t ever been a two-way street.  Not once.  Not ever.  Vibranium strong and able to survive all kinds of damage, but never a two-way street.</p><p>James’s dick throbs as he looks up and down Tony’s body, the man’s knees on either side of him, James’s thumb pressed against the button of his asshole, circling and pressing but not entering.  The scars at the center of Tony’s chest hurt to remember, but he’s kissed them, licked at them, until Tony had stopped being so fucking shy about them, years ago.</p><p>Tony gasps up at him, and James sees that angry young man he’d been, yelling at James, <em>Why can’t we just keep going, Rhodey?  Why isn’t this- why do you need- just stay, you asshole!  Just stay!</em></p><p><em>We’re good</em>, that man had pleaded, begging on his actual knees, later that night, as James sat on the couch they’d fought over custody of, Tony between his knees, begging, <em>please.  Don’t go</em>.</p><p>James swallows, because he can guess Tony has moments like these, too, when they have tequila nights.  Nights when their heads fog and they let themselves forget how many days or years or months or lifetimes they could have had.  Nights that seem connected, somehow, deeply connected, one to the next to the next, like a whole life that happens inside their other lives.  And moments like these, when he wants to promise Tony he’ll pick up the phone and call sometime when he’s not drunk and lonely, or drunk and happy, or drunk and- and-</p><p><em>Honest</em>.</p><p>Tony and James are good, they really are.  Tony loves James for the way he talks shit about Tony, because he still sees that stupid dumbass kid who needs to be taken down a peg and guided to a better path.  And James loves Tony for his wildness, for the way he makes James feel like they can do anything, anything at all, anything in the world, and it’ll all be okay.</p><p>Tony’s kiss tastes like tequila and salt, hot heat and quenching wetness.  He tastes like Tony, and a hundred tequila nights behind them, a hundred more stretched out until the day they die.  He hums into it, like he’s asking James <em>what the fuck</em>, but gently.  James kisses him, and kisses him, until he forgets, again, his head a little tipsy, a little confused, what made him so sad, just then.  </p><p>Tony grins up at him and says, “Lube, though.”</p><p>“Negotiable,” grunts James, because you never let Tony have the definite upper hand in anything, if you want to survive the experience.  “I love that sweet ass when you’re raw and aching.”</p><p>“I’m definitely both of those things,” agrees Tony with a wince.  “So, I’m an old man now, <em>lube</em>.”</p><p>“Fine,” huffs James, like it was an actual negotiation, like there was any chance he’d try to fuck Tony dry again.  “But you’re on top, old man.”</p><p>Tony pretends to be grateful when they both know there’s no need for it, but it makes the next round of sex that much hotter, Tony babbling his gratitude and James gritting his teeth at how well Tony’s hips know how to speed him towards explosion.</p><p>When James comes, Tony laughs and slips off of him, trailing a wet sticky mess as he scrambles awkwardly for the side of the bed.  “More tequila,” he declares.</p><p>“Fuck,” says James, “if you think I can go another round, you’re crazy.  I’m <em>old</em>, Tone.”</p><p>“With enough tequila, you’ll fuck me all night,” Tony tells him, waving a negligent hand.</p><p>Yeah.</p><p>
That’s very true.</p><p>Given enough tequila, James will fuck Tony for the rest of his life, however long that may be.  </p><p>Still.</p><p>You can’t let Tony Stark think he’s winning, no matter what.  That’s Stark Survival 101.</p><p>“Well, you’ll definitely get fucked all night,” agrees James.  “Might not be by me.”</p><p>Tony splutters, and looks around the room with wide eyes.  James follows his gaze as it contemplates and discards possibilities.  He smiles brightly at Tony’s obvious low-grade panic and says, “Pour me another shot.  I’m feeling creative.”</p><p>Tony blanches, but pours the shots with a steady hand.</p><p>Well.  He should.  They’ve had a lot of practice at this.</p><p>James eyes up the bottle appreciatively, as he stands and joins Tony at the bar.</p><p>“Oh, no, Rhodey,” stammers Tony, who knows him about as well as he knows Tony.  He slides the bottle across the counter until it’s just out of reach.  His reach.  Not James’s, James notes with a grin. “Not- I am not doing that again.  Have mercy.”</p><p>“Eh,” says James.  He doesn’t really <em>do</em> mercy, that’s not his schtick, that’s not what Tony turns to him for.  He lifts the shot glass and clinks it against Tony’s gently, before smirking up at Tony.  He slides the shot back, down his throat and into the heat that’s slowly building again in his stomach and then quotes, slowly, “Oh Lord, what have I done,” just to enjoy the way Tony gulps before slamming his own shot and squaring up. </p><p>“I regret everything about that song,” Tony announces firmly.  “I don’t like that it reminds you-”</p><p>“What?  Just how much you’ll take for me?” growls James, leaning over the bar.</p><p>“I have regrets,” Tony declares, but then his lips twitch.  He’s watching James’s every move with an intensity and a hunger that remains one of the most thrilling things about life.</p><p>“And after tonight, you’ll have one more,” James promises him, smiling, the heat rising up and the taste of tequila on his tongue as he reaches out with one hand to pull Tony into another fiery kiss.</p><p>His other hand snags the bottle, and he laughs into the kiss when Tony notices and squeaks in dismay.</p><p>Some things never change. </p><p>God bless tequila.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay.  I gotta do oooooone more, probably, and then we gotta stop, okay?</p><p>But seriously, this has been fun, right?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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